


The Wolf In Street Clothing

by SburbanMom



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, McHanzo - Freeform, NSFW, also hanzo is wearing the dumbest fucking sweater throughout most of this, brief mention of some parental abuse, hanzo is 22, jesse is 21, on the vanilla side but. still good., sexy stuff, young!mchanzo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 13:14:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9386834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SburbanMom/pseuds/SburbanMom
Summary: It was a muddle of things, first soft and muted and suddenly loud, demanding to be heard, a cacophony of bereavements. He hadn’t told Jesse the truth- he never would. He’d never get to take Jesse to see the cherry blossoms that made Hanamura so iconic in the spring. More than anything was this- that he was in love with Jesse Mccree, an American boy he’d found smoking on a street corner after Tanabata.God, he felt sick.----------Hanzo is young and repressed. He tries to have fun, but he hardly expects to fall in love with a fool in a cowboy hat.





	

“Do you know how much trouble you’re in?”   
  
Jesse stared at his feet like a condemned man as Gabriel paced not two feet away. The motel room wasn’t very big, nor particularly intimidating, but somehow he felt like he’d been put on parade to a council of hateful elders. 

 

“I asked him, you know. Asked him five- no, six times.” Jesse mumbled, propping an ankle up on his knee and fiddling with his spurs. Gabe shot him a look that told him to stop or there’d be a name on the casualties list of the mission. Not much else, though- the man was thinking. Calculating each word carefully.

 

“Jesse, I can’t quantifiably prove that you asked Hanzo Shimada a damn thing. As far as Jack is concerned, you just threw ten years of hard tracking and covert ops into a garbage disposal and flipped the switch with your dick.”

 

“You act like I wasn’t tryin’ to be careful, Reyes.” Jesse bit back, his voice breaking unintentionally. He rubbed his chin, trying to hide it. He wasn’t upset. Hanzo was a dirty liar, and that was his problem, not Jesse’s. But he’d made the mistake of going along with the lie, and that was where he’d gotten himself in trouble.

 

“You stay here. I’m calling Jack.” Gabriel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. His eyes were tired, and Jesse couldn’t help but wonder why he’d gotten such a stroke of bad luck. Why any of them had to deal with this in the first place.

 

Hanzo’s eyes, too, had been tired that first day. Back before he had a last name.

 

The two had met in a darkened street corner- something like a scene from a movie. The neon sign in the window advertised cheap salmon while the air smelled like expensive perfume.

 

Jesse had lit the cigarette with caution at first- Reyes usually knew when Jesse was smoking, and he only wanted to get in a drag or two before his superior officer crushed the thing under his boot. It was after half the thing was gone that he’d realized Gabriel was well entrenched in a game of Night Baseball with a tough looking guy back inside the bar.

 

It wasn’t that there weren’t a lot of people out, but Hanzo and Jesse’s eyes met almost immediately. It was hard not to notice Hanzo’s unpracticed gaze, scanning Jesse over like a price-checker, assessing him, deeming him worthy.

 

“Howdy, stranger. Or, uh- konnichiwa? That’s how they say it around these parts, ain’t it- Boku wa no namae Jesse, desu. Something.” He chuckled as Hanzo rolled his eyes.

 

“I can speak english, stupid American.”   
  
“Well, can ya? Boy howdy, then, guess I won’t have to translate anything. Gotta say, my charm don’t work all that well in other languages.” He snorted and took another drag of his cigarette, letting the smoke drift from him slowly before heaving the rest out and watching it dissipate into the night sky. Hanzo’s eyes followed the plume as well.

 

“You look lonely.”   
  
“What tipped you off?” Jesse cracked his best charming smile. His left hand rested on his Peacekeeper, holstered hot against his thigh. Never knew.

 

“I know you are being sarcastic, but the way you look at the sky makes me think perhaps you feel like something is missing.” Hanzo itched the back of his wrist idly- a nervous habit. Something he could never drop. “Maybe I am just making small talk with a stranger now.”   
  
“Don’t have to be a stranger for long if you don’t want me to be. What’s yer name?” Jesse finished off the cigarette, dropping it on the pavement and letting it fizzle out in the street’s moisture.

 

“Hanzo.”   
  
“You ain’t a Shimada, are ya?” Jesse laughed and brushed some hair back. “Y’know, that there fancy-ass buncha loons with the weird tradings?”   
  
“Would a Shimada dress like this?” Hanzo asked, indicating his baggy sweater and skinny jeans. Even his shoes looked battered- hardly clothes fit for a powerful trading mogul. Jesse couldn’t help but feel a little silly at that.

 

“Just askin’.” He shrugged as he stepped away from the wall and let his jacket fall back over his holster. “Had my friend warn me against beddin’ a Shimada. Said it’d really make a dent in things.”   
  
“So you intend to bed me?”   
  
“I’m sayin’ I certainly wouldn’t mind gettin’ to know you for the night. Don’t have much time in town, never too early to have a little fun.” Jesse winked, and Hanzo smirked a bit, tucking his hair back. “Besides, can’t say you don’t seem like an interesting fella. Why don’t I buy you a drink, we’ll see how things go?”   
  
“I accept.” Hanzo replied. “Though I will warn you, I do not take these offers lightly.”   
  
“Fine by me.” Jesse fixed his hat. “Since I fully intend on findin’ out a bit more about you before I leave, stranger.”   
  
~   
  
Hanzo had two identities, as far as he was concerned. Genji may have been more outwardly rebellious, but as the eldest child, Hanzo was much better at hiding it. His father never once questioned the open windows, the drawer filled with street clothing, the smart-looking high collared shirts. To his father, Hanzo could do little wrong.

 

“Like your mother.” He would say, watching with hard eyes as Hanzo pulled his hair into a loose ponytail. His father had a habit of trailing off, remarking before letting the thought fall flat. This one was not uncommon- Hanzo had garnered more of his mother’s features, bringing up an image to his father that resembled the late Shimada queen. The hard-line nose, the thoughtful brown eyes, even his ears sloped in the way that his mother’s had once.

 

He’d dressed nicely, but his bag hid a contraband t-shirt and jeans. That was the lovely thing about Tanabata- hidden amongst the thick crowds and hopeful young folks bustling into shrines, Hanzo could change in an instant. One moment a gentleman and an elite, the next a casanova, hoping for his next adventure. He liked to think his mother knew this too- that he should be free, free for small thrills. Free when he wasn’t concerned with the future of the Shimada clan. 

 

“Make sure your brother doesn’t get into any trouble. I cannot afford another scandal, and especially not with the summit approaching.”

 

“Yes.”

 

The two were silent again as Hanzo picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder. Genji could be heard shuffling down the hall- probably hungover, Hanzo noted, but still down to cause some trouble. At least Hanzo could probably slip away with little to no fuss.

 

Genji noticed him stepping out and closing the door, and he beamed. “Anija, are you ready for the festival, then? I hear the goldfish man’s granddaughter is in town, and that she’s single. Perhaps you could let me see if the rumors are true?”   
  
“If you make a mistake, you’ll be disowned.” Hanzo replied gruffly, repeating his own mantra for Genji’s sake. “Do not think that your foolishness has no consequences.”

 

“Ah, Anija, you worry too much.” Genji replied, latching onto Hanzo’s arm with a wide smile. “Try and have a little fun, won’t you?”   
  
_ I intend on it.  _ Hanzo thought, adjusting his bag.  _ And if I do it correctly, you’ll never know. _

“I will consider it.” He said, adjusting his shirt and heading into the garden, the sound of the festival floating in through the gates.

 

~

 

Jesse was surprisingly gentlemanly in everything he did- when Hanzo had suggested going back to Jesse’s place, he seemed almost surprised, as though he hadn’t expected Hanzo to be so forward. That being said, he had no trouble maintaining the casual and flirtatious atmosphere they’d set up all the way back to the motel.

 

“So a brother, then.” Jesse asked, lighting up another cigarette. Hanzo was beginning to wonder if smoking was more than just a habit of his. “What’s he like?”

 

“Stubborn. Hot-headed.” Hanzo said. He eyed Jesse’s hands, resting easy on his belt. Hanzo had to brush away a meandering thought of how those hands might feel resting on his hips. “Does not like authority much.”   
  
“Somethin’ tells me I’d get along with this brother of yours.” Jesse winked at Hanzo. 

 

“Regardless of that, Jesse Mccree, it is not my brother I would like you to focus on.” Hanzo replied, turning away. “You seem awfully nosy for a one-night stand.”   
  
“Aw, c’mon now, darlin’. I’m just tryin’ to be a gentleman. You’d rather I be all hands?”   
  
Hanzo hesitated, but Jesse stopped, turning to look at him. “I can be anything you want me to be, Hanzo.”

 

Hanzo stared ahead at the damp pavement glistening in the streetlight. Jesse seemed to take his momentary silence as a concession of interest. “Listen, Hanzo- we don’t hafta-”   
  


“Jesse.” He admonished, pulling him in for a fast, impassioned kiss. Jesse’s eyes fluttered shut- Hanzo could feel it, those long lashes tickling his own- and he seemed to lean into it as well. It took a moment for Hanzo to remember to pull away. There was something almost dangerous about how well his lips seemed to fit into Jesse’s. A stranger, a foreigner, another thrill- someone warm to wake up beside, someone to forget about when the clock struck noon the next day. A routine to break the routine.

 

“You sure are somethin’ else, Hanzo.” Jesse breathed quietly, laughing a little as he did. “Somethin’ special.”

 

“How close are we to your room, Jesse?” Hanzo asked, voice shaky. 

 

“Just around the corner, darlin’.”

 

Hanzo had hardly waited until the door was closed to get his hands all over a very surprised Jesse Mccree.

 

“Woah there, darlin’, relax.”

 

“I will relax once you’ve done as you will with me, Jesse Mccree.”

 

“Just call me Jesse, darlin’.” He purred, his hands (god, Hanzo couldn’t bring himself to get over those) wandering up Hanzo’s shirt and tracing each and every muscles. They were just cold enough to give Hanzo goosebumps, but not enough to in any way stifle the mounting feeling of  _ need  _ in his stomach.

 

Hanzo was quick to work away at each button up Mccree’s flannel shirt. He silently prayed that there wasn’t much more to remove- he couldn’t think of a worse fate than having to go through layer after layer just to get to-

 

Oh, fuck.

 

“Hanzo, you alright?” Jesse asked. He’d become entranced in it, nearly forgetting the task at hand. Scars that traveled all down Jesse’s chest, to his torso. There was the slightest bit of chub that masked the thick muscle beneath and hung over his waistband in the most endearing way. Even the soft dark hair that covered his chest seemed alluring in its own way.   
  
“Jesse, you are beautiful.” Hanzo said plainly, running his hand down the marks. He could feel the blood rising to Mccree’s chest and head through his fingertips.   
  
“Aw, c’mere.” He replied gruffly, a hand resting on the small of Hanzo’s back, pulling him up close. “Don’t think there’ll be anyone in the next room over for a good hour or so. We can be as loud as we want.”

 

It was Hanzo’s turn to be a bit flustered. He knew he had a tendency to be loud in bed, but Mccree seemed to zero in on that in an instant. “You are sure?”   
  
“Gabe gets real involved in a good game a’ cards.”

 

“Then let us move somewhere a bit more comfortable.”   
  
With Jesse’s lips and guiding hands firmly pressed to Hanzo, they somehow managed to scramble onto the bed, losing clothes as they went. Even when Hanzo had to pull his hoodie over his head, it wasn’t long before they’d managed to reconnect their mouths.

 

Down to nothing but underwear and socks, Hanzo straddled Jesse’s lap like a fucking gymnast, legs splayed wide to get as close as he possibly could. Jesse was panting slightly, hair mussed from Hanzo’s eager hands, but he was grinning like an idiot. Hanzo couldn’t help but marvel a little at that wide, seamless smile.

 

“Left nightstand, darlin’. Blue bottle.”

 

Ah, right.   
  
Hanzo lamented having to lean over to get it, but as soon as he returned, Jesse rewarded his efforts with a hearty, long hip roll. Hanzo shuddered as the friction slowly but surely caused the tension in his pants to worsen. Jesse seemed so easy about everything, so untouchable. Even his dick, half hard in his boxers, seemed unperturbed by Hanzo’s own desperate arousal.

Hanzo felt as though he’d found someone capable of satisfying him, for once.

 

“Hand me that.” Mccree said, holding out a hand as Hanzo gave the tiny bottle to him and almost immediately resumed rolling his hips in a way that made Hanzo absolutely melt. Maybe it was the way his hips jerked ever so slightly- his muscles betraying his exterior. Maybe it was the look on Jesse’s face, something like adoration mixed with mischief. Maybe it was the way his hands seemed to hold so much of Hanzo with only a few points of contact.

 

Hanzo breathed as he kissed Jesse again, pushing a hand into his hair in an attempt to hold him closer, to get more. Like an addict, it seemed as though he could never have enough of that feeling, that smell, that taste. Jesse pulled him in like a siren’s song. 

 

“So eager, Hanzo, you sure you’ve done this before?”   
“A thousand times.” Hanzo breathed. “I cannot tell you why it is different this time.”   
“Funny,” Jesse chuckled, a hand slipping beneath the waistband of Hanzo’s boxers. “I was just thinkin’ the same thing.”   
  
Jesse let his hand wander, but never neglect. It wasn’t long before he’d taken to pumping Hanzo’s dick in a slow and steady rhythm, scooting up to allow his own head to fall back against the pillows. Hanzo bit his lip, trying so desperately not to move up into the much-wanted friction of Jesse’s hand.   
  
“You look so good from this angle, Hanzo.” Jesse mumbled, rolling his hips against Hanzo’s ass. “Could look at this for the rest of my natural born life.”

 

“AH, fuck, Jesse-”

 

“Mmh, can’t get you too riled up now, can we?” Jesse grinned mischievously and retracted his hand, not bothering to tuck Hanzo back in. “You’re pretty, but I can think of somethin’ even prettier. Get those boxers off and lemme take a look at you.”   
  
Though somewhat awkwardly, Hanzo had managed to discard his underwear fairly quickly, more than a little desperate for more of Jesse’s advances. It was with a certain measure of annoyance that he took Jesse’s uncharacteristically long pause at the sight.

 

“What? Is something the matter?”   
“Nah, not at all, just… seein’ you. Somethin’ about it.” Jesse laughed, a genuine, almost endearingly awkward laugh. “Guy feels a little silly.”

 

“You have no reason to feel silly, Jesse Mccree.” Hanzo scolded, staring him down. “The only reason you have to feel like a fool is that you are wasting precious time with such placations.”

 

“Placations?”

 

“Fuck me already, Jesse.” He mumbled, leaning down to kiss Jesse once more, desperate for more, desperate to be held and touched and god,  _ loved _ by Jesse. It welled up in his throat, wrapped itself around him like a snake. Desire. Passion. The feeling of falling.

 

Jesse didn't seem to mind obeying, jimmying the lube bottle open with his teeth and letting a decent amount of the stuff coat his fingers. He was surprisingly neat and precise in how he pushed the first finger into Hanzo- at first Hanzo was so caught up in memorizing Jesse's expression that he didn't feel anything until maybe the first knuckle.

 

That or he was far too used to this already.

 

“Keep me updated on how yer feelin’, darlin’.” Jesse hummed, his free hand gently caressing Hanzo's lower back.

 

“it is just the first. I am not exactly a virgin.” Hanzo snorted. Jesse nodded wordlessly, kissing Hanzo as he carefully let a second finger work itself in, stretching him further. That was when Hanzo seemed to really feel it- he gripped at Jesse's upper arm, a small expression of whatever sensation he was starting to feel.

 

“Doin’ alright?”

 

“Mmh, perfect.” He nodded. “Keep on, it is nothing.” in honesty, the feeling was… wonderful. Jesse's gentle touches and soft tones made any existing pain disappear entirely. What was left was a warmth, a fullness that just seemed to get better.

 

“You're gonna want three fingers for this, darlin’.” Jesse said apologetically. Hanzo just nodded. He trusted Jesse's judgement in this case- well, moreover, he had to. Jesse knew much better than he did just how much Hanzo would have to handle, persay.

 

The third finger did hurt a bit more, but god knew it felt good, too. He tossed his head back a bit as Jesse maneuvered his fingers a bit, scissored them. Moved them in time to his hand sliding up Hanzo's torso, worn hands surveying soft, unmarred skin. Hanzo was in a state of bliss, caught between Jesse’s soft and seductive words and the edging-on-painful fullness of his fingers.    
  
“You think you’re ready?”   
  
Hanzo nodded wordlessly, despite not wanting Jesse to pull out, not for even a minute. As he did, Hanzo let his head drop forward once again to kiss Jesse, more messily, more desperate. He felt the need mounting, that desperate fire. When he looked at Jesse, he saw something terrifying- he’d become something so much more than just a one-night stand. This one expression wasn’t enough. This one moment wasn’t nearly sufficient. He knew that one night, six or seven hours, whatever that may be- it wasn’t nearly enough to fill his curiosity.

 

“Fuck me until I cannot remember a single word of any language, Jesse.” Hanzo pleaded quietly, pressing his face to Jesse’s.

 

Jesse laughed- a genuine, honest laugh. It came from his stomach. The hand that had been stretching Hanzo helped him to maneuver off his boxers as Hanzo sat up, helping him a bit and getting a better look at Jesse on the whole. It was a sight for sore eyes- Jesse was not lean, but the contour of his muscles along his shoulders, down his sides, into his thighs; he was built to survive, to last the way a sturdy brick house might. It entranced Hanzo to a point of nearly forgetting the task at hand.

 

Operative word: Nearly.

 

“You ready?” Jesse asked, adding a bit more lube to his fingers and giving his dick a few gentle strokes to coat it slightly. Hanzo nodded and tucked an errant strand of hair behind his ear, taking Jesse’s dick from him and positioning himself nigh-expertly above it. With a breath, he brought himself down, hissing as he cleared the head and was stretched further than Jesse’s fingers likely could have provided. Part of him wondered if he’d be able to manage. Another part of him was unreasonably excited by the fairly interesting sensation.

 

“You alright there, darlin’?”   
  
“Just give me a moment to adjust. I am… more than alright.” Hanzo replied, eyes opening ever so slightly just to gaze down at Jesse. It all felt like some sort of strange dream. Seeing the way Jesse’s expression softened at Hanzo’s eyes, the wandering state of his hands, Hanzo wondered briefly if perhaps Jesse was thinking the same thing.

 

This would not be the last time they met.

 

“I think I am more than ready. Would you do the honors?” Hanzo asked, rolling his hips once or twice with a calculated hip roll that drew a gasp from Jesse’s lips.

 

“It’d be my pleasure.”

 

It was then that Jesse’s soft touches became rougher, hands clinging in some way or another to Hanzo’s hips, driving his own hips up into him. Hanzo gasped at the feeling- it was with ease that Jesse managed to reach his prostate, sending near intolerable shocks through his body.

 

“ _ Fuck,  _ Jesse!”

 

“Hehe, you are kinda loud. Guessed right.” Jesse smirked and bit his lip, eyes shutting for a moment as he focused on setting up a rhythm. With Hanzo’s help, it wasn’t hard. When Jesse went up, Hanzo went down- and soon, it became something of a game. Hanzo, panting, desperate, trying to pull back hair as it fell (to no avail), begging for Jesse to give more, more. Jesse alternated, withdrew before going full force once again, drawing increasingly vulgar statements from Hanzo’s lips.

 

“ _ Jesse Mccree, if you don’t stop teasing me, I’ll make you stay up all night with me.”  _ Hanzo threatened, his mother tongue slipping from his mouth like ice.  _ “Fuck me like you mean it. Fuck me like I’ll be the last good fuck of your life.” _

 

“What’s the matter?” Jesse teased, slowing his pace as Hanzo whined and tried to recoup the speed and power he’d left behind. “Forget our shared language?”

 

“I have forgotten nothing-” He hissed, leaning in close. “Only the memory of me telling you to slow down.”

 

“Aw, what’s the matter, sugar?” Mccree’s tone was joking yet sly. Even with the way he slowed, the hunger in his eyes was more than apparent- had Hanzo goaded him more, it was sure that he would have lost his edge to pure desire.

 

“The matter is that- AH!” Hanzo gasped as Mccree gave a sudden slam of his hips, returning to his previous pace. Hanzo’s words were lost to the desperate moans that arose from his chest in breaths. His voice hiccuped with every thrust.

 

Jesse’s hands hadn’t forgotten their interest: though he steadied Hanzo’s hips, he let a hand wander at all times. He’d grown fond of Hanzo’s stomach, heaving with breath and effort, covered in downy hair that trailed downwards in an almost comically even line. There was something about the way Hanzo seemed to dance, even with his hips as occupied as they were. 

 

“Jesse, please!” Hanzo begged, barely able to manage words between the elated gasps. “Please, please, just touch me-”

 

“No need for more words, sweetheart. You close?” Jesse grunted, swallowing hard as he began to stroke Hanzo at a pace ever so slightly slower than that of his hips.

 

Hanzo could only offer a moan and a fast nod, prompting Jesse to grin a little. “What a coincidence. You gonna have a fit if I come in ya?”   
  
Hanzo shook his head vehemently, leaning forward for a better angle. He could hardly keep his eyes open, the sensory “Please, Jesse. I- ah, AH!”

 

Jesse hardly had a moment to react before Hanzo was coming, tightening around him, his whole body warm and desperate. Before he knew it, Jesse was coming too, muttering expletives in a soft voice as he pulled Hanzo’s hips to meet his. Hanzo rolled his hips to bring Jesse around again- caught up in the stupor of a good orgasm.

 

“Jesse, ah, that was.”   
  
Jesse laughed, half-lidded eyes still buzzing with warmth as he reached to cup Hanzo’s cheek in his hand. “Fantastic, darlin’. Absolutely fantastic.”

 

~

 

Hanzo awoke to the sound of the bathroom sink. Jesse was shaving, humming a little as he did, contorting his face as he tried to reach all the important parts. Sunlight streamed through the window and filled up the bathroom, making even the motel’s questionably clean surfaces look beautiful. Jesse still hadn’t put his shirt back on. Hanzo had noticed that was a trend of his.

 

“You missed a spot. In front of your ear.” Hanzo gestured, using his own face for reference and cracking a small smile. Jesse glanced over and laughed- Hanzo didn’t have to shave, usually. Even when he did, it only ever seemed to come in above his lip. Watching Hanzo indicate unchecked stubble on his clean, pale face was a funny sight indeed.

 

“Aw, think you missed a spot, darlin’.” Jesse joked, setting the razor down and climbing into bed on top of Hanzo. He began kissing sporadically around his face, causing Hanzo to laugh.

 

“You are a fool and a troublemaker, and you are getting shaving cream everywhere.”   
  
“Ain’t no thing, don’t they change these sheets anyway?”   
  
“I suppose they do, but you are making a mess of me as well.”   
  
“Wouldn’t be the first time, darlin’.”   
  


Hanzo hadn’t expected to be this entranced by the American boy from the alleyway. No, he’d found him after Tanabata, wandering the streets in search of something interesting. He’d spent the day with Genji after he’d failed to woo the goldfish man’s granddaughter, taking him around to keep him out of trouble and in his sights. It was only once Genji had gone home that Hanzo had found an opportunity to venture out on his own.

 

Unsurprisingly, that night hadn’t been the last- Jesse Mccree had popped up again soon after, and again, and again. Hanzo found himself searching crowds for the soft brown eyes and thick Southern drawl, waiting for a chance to ask the other for a moment of his time. With every night, every strange joke or reference, Hanzo saw a deeper and deeper chasm into which he wanted to fling himself. In his mind, Hanzo insisted to himself that there was no use in growing attached, but some part of him was absolutely ensconced in Jesse Mccree. He’d lie awake some nights and think fondly about him, glance around at the night and wonder if Jesse was thinking about him too.

 

Of course, there was one problem- he’d been dishonest. Intensely dishonest. 

 

“So Reyes has been givin’ me shit again for not findin’ anything new on the Shimadas.” Jesse sighed, flopping down atop the covers. Hanzo stiffened a bit at the mention, but turned on his side and watched Jesse’s profile move with his words. “I know I’m supposed to be gatherin’ intel, but folks just ain’t all that loose-lipped. Not to mention, seems like nobody’s got anything to begin with. They’re clever rats, those Shimadas.”

 

“I could certainly look and see what I can find. It does not help that you are quite clearly a foreigner.” Hanzo replied, somewhat quiet. He had to be careful with his words- it was a dangerous game. Jesse was not a fool, nor was he dense. He had a keen eye. 

 

Gabriel Reyes, as well, was an issue- Hanzo had met him a number of times, in his meetings with his father. Gabriel was a hardened looking man of thirty-five, with sharp eyes and a silent disposition. He’d learned only from Jesse that he worked in a special division of the Overwatch strike team- a division dedicated to picking up the dirty work.

 

“He’s not so bad, once you get to know him. He’s really a big softie.” Jesse had said once. 

 

The problem was keeping Gabriel’s eyes away from him- Hanzo may have been able to fool Jesse, but Gabriel reeked of a man who did not play games. In his eyes, Hanzo saw a man who had done unspeakable things without question, a man who would not show mercy in the face of adversity. 

 

“That’s mighty nice of you, Hanzo.” Jesse kissed his forehead. “You just let me know, alright?”

 

Hanzo knew that he couldn’t let him know, but sometimes he truly wanted to. Maybe it’d make him feel less guilty. The way Jesse looked at him like even the sunshine couldn’t compare, beautiful as it was… god, it made his heart ache.

 

“I will tell you what I can. I would argue that the only ones who know anything of note of the Shimada Clan are the Shimadas themselves.” Hanzo tossed his arms up around Jesse’s neck lazily. “Now, you must finish shaving. I cannot be gone long or my family will notice- I must be at my archery practice by noon.”   
  
“Archery, huh?” Jesse grinned, the same grin he used whenever he was about to make Hanzo groan. “Well, darlin’-”   
  
“Please, don’t.”

 

“You shot an arrow right through my heart.” Jesse winked. Hanzo groaned. All was right with the world.

 

“Go shave, you menace to society.”

 

~

 

Hanzo looked good with his hair up- the high ponytail suited him. Jesse was happy to pull him closer by his shoulders, a bit possessive.

 

The nighttime summer air was gentle even at Hanamura’s altitude. The horizon was just starting to fade behind an orange glow, with all the clouds and trees glowing gold on the edges. Jesse had stolen a glance or two at Hanzo as they sat, relaxing and watching the sunset. There was a delightful serenity about him, something gentle.

 

“What’s on your mind, dragon boy?” Jesse asked, kissing his ear. Hanzo smiled a little- the sight was rare, but pleasant.    
  
“I would be lying if I said I was not thinking of you.”

 

“Aw, yeah? Whatcha thinkin’ about me then?”

 

“Nothing of consequence.” Hanzo replied, shutting his eyes and relaxing against Jesse’s shoulder. With a snort, Jesse elbowed him teasingly. 

 

“Nothin’? Really? Nothin’ at all, then?”   
  
“ _ Jesse. _ ”

 

Hanzo buried his face in Mccree’s exposed neck, exhaling. He pressed a few light kisses to Jesse’s skin.

 

“That what you were thinking about?”   
  
“Something like that.” The reverberations of Hanzo’s voice against Jesse’s skin sent shivers down his spine. He let one ankle catch Hanzo’s, linking them together on the ground. “Admittedly, I had bigger plans.”

 

“Wouldn’t be opposed to caterin’ to those, if you’d just tell me.”

 

“I like it here. We can do other things when I’ve finished enjoying the sunset.”

 

“Funny words from a resident of the land a’ the  _ rising _ sun.”

 

“Shut your mouth, Jesse Mccree.”

 

Jesse smiled a little and let himself focus on the spectacle once again, the darkness beginning to take over like fog. The thin golden lines that had ringed the clouds and trees were gone, replaced by dull reflections of the meager remaining light. 

 

Though the air was growing chillier, neither Hanzo nor Jesse complained. The combined body heat was more than enough.

 

~

 

Hanzo could hear his father storming down the hallway, and he sat up abruptly. A lantern swung, closer still, shining through the thin paper of the door as he passed. The footsteps made no attempt to disguise themselves. Hanzo glanced at the clock. Almost 11. He’d promised Jesse he’d meet him half-past. He could not miss this meeting.

 

“...Dirty bastard… Reyes… International…”

 

Hanzo shuffled his bedclothes off himself, standing and making his way to the door quietly. His father had been distraught about the affairs with Overwatch for some time now. It took a lot of manpower to put up a front as complex as the one needed to shield the Shimada clan from an international task force of elites. Truly, it was an uphill battle- but Hanzo had done his part to make it no easier for Overwatch.

 

“ _ Jesse Mccree _ … A menace… asking around…”

 

Satisfied that his father was far enough beyond earshot, Hanzo took to pulling on his streetclothes and tying his hair back the way Jesse liked it. Maybe next time, he’d even-

 

Oh, god.

 

Hanzo stopped cold, hands still holding his hair, his grip loosening. The realization was so latent, he almost didn’t recognize it. He should have known. God, but why?   
  
Jesse Mccree was never coming back. Never again. This was, perhaps, the last time that Hanzo would ever see him.

 

It was a muddle of things, first soft and muted and suddenly loud, demanding to be heard, a cacophony of bereavements. He hadn’t told Jesse the truth- he never would. He’d never get to take Jesse to see the cherry blossoms that made Hanamura so iconic in the spring. More than anything was this- that he was in love with Jesse Mccree, an American boy he’d found smoking on a street corner after Tanabata.

 

God, he felt sick.

 

He fell to his knees, barely able to hold onto his dresser as he did. His fingers slipped, and he was suddenly holding the drawer instead. As gravity took its course, the drawer, too, went down with Hanzo, crashing backwards and landing with a noise that would wake a sleeping dragon.

 

Trying to rein in the nausea, Hanzo tried with shaking hands to collect the drawer’s contents, but his father’s voice echoed like a ghost through the thin walls.

 

“Hanzo? Hanzo, are you alright?”

 

“Fine, fine.”   
  
He hoped to every god he could name that his father would not-

 

“Hanzo.”   
  
The light felt like it would blind him as his father opened the door, staring at him with a mix of disdain and curiosity. Hanzo stood, slowly, praying that the lamplight would be weak enough for his father to mistake his jeans for sleepwear.

 

“What are you wearing?”

 

“My sleepclothes.”

 

“Those are the streetclothes of the common folk.”

 

“Thus why I would have them for sleepclothes.”

 

His father wasn’t having any of it. Before he knew it, there was orange light just about everywhere. The room felt like it was on fire.

 

“Father, please-”   
  
The thought barely began as Hanzo could feel the vile numbness of his father’s dragon coiling around him like a rope. He struggled against the burning sensation- he’d felt it before, many times. During Genji’s childhood tantrums, or nights when he’d filled himself so full of self-loathing and pilfered alcohol that even his own powers were disgusted with him. From his father, though- there was a wholly different sensation to the practiced and calculated rage his father harbored.

“I knew there was a rat in our midst.”

 

~

 

Jesse was there early- how could he not be? Gabe had engrossed himself in the wiretap he’d managed to wiggle into the Shimada residence, and Jesse’d needed a smoke anyway- to take his mind off the impending departure.

 

Hanzo meant a lot to him- it was strange, he thought. The way fate functioned like that. To meet someone on a street corner and find their smile occupying your thoughts, their voice narrating your dreams. It felt like a denial, a spit in the face of fate.  _ I’m leaving, by the way,  _ he’d say.  _ Thanks for giving me the love of my life. I’ll never see him again. _

 

Jesse pushed a hand back through his hair and exhaled, not bothering to remove the dwindling cigarette from between his lips. It was bittersweet, in a way. Hanzo likely didn’t care much for Jesse. In the same way that Jesse seemed to lay bare his emotions, Hanzo closed himself off, letting only brief, sanguine moments of affection shine through. Jesse wanted to think that Hanzo saw the light in his eyes too, but it hurt to admit that it likely wasn’t the case.

 

He waited, shrouded by the darkness, watching his clock with the anxiety of a new father or a forthcoming widower. Each minute ticked by, and soon, the clock struck 11:30.    
  


Jesse’s heart seemed to skip a beat for every minute past. By midnight, he felt as though everything had been a mistake.

 

His comm suddenly lit up at 12:15, nearly causing Jesse to fall over.    
  
“Jesse, you fucking moron!”   
  
“Wh-”

 

“You get your ass back here IMMEDIATELY.”

 

“Aw, Gabe, I was just-”

 

“Jesse  _ Carmichael  _ Mccree, your stupid horny ass just threw the mission. You get back here before I go out there and kick your ass myself-”   
  
“I  _ what? _ ” Jesse fumbled with his comm, glancing around, desperately hoping that Hanzo would show up and help him.

 

“Your little  _ boyfriend, _ ” Gabe hissed, his voice coming in deep and irritated over the comm, “Is the fucking  _ heir to the Shimada fortune,  _ DUMBASS.”

 

~

 

“I am sorry for my actions earlier.” 

 

Hanzo sat, still as a statue, cold as ice. His eyes did not part from the wall. The stoicism was well received by his father.

 

“You are truly a man worthy of taking on the duties of this clan- moreover, I am amazed by your foresight and personal sacrifice. Why you did not inform me of this undertaking beforehand, I will not question. You, and you alone, have perhaps saved the clan.”

 

Hanzo wanted to swallow, but his mouth was dry. Though he knew it left no physical marks, he could still feel the burning sensation of his father’s dragon wrapped around his throat, claws digging into the flesh of his shoulders. Years of practiced rage and torture, turned on his own son.

 

“It… it was all for you, Father-” He’d choked. “To save the clan from Overwatch.”

 

Only then had his father released him from the burning hold of the dragon’s claws- but the feeling lingered. Hanzo’s hand twitched on his lap. His legs hurt from sitting on them as long as he had been, speaking his gospel to the roomful of his father’s ears.

 

“You say then, that this Jesse Mccree is the key?”

 

Hanzo did not move his eyes. He worried that doing so might wake him up from his poker face.

 

“He is a junior member of the special ops division of Overwatch. They are a team dedicated to the covert affairs of the UN special forces- they are headed by Gabriel Reyes, the man you have been so disillusioned with.”

 

“I asked of Jesse Mccree.”

 

“He was not hard to seduce.” Hanzo bit. His voice brimmed with poison. “He was a fool, and a romantic. Once I’d bedded him, he opened up thoughtlessly- to impress me, I’m sure. But I was not swayed. He believed every second of it. He believed I was a commoner and a blushing bride. Not once was he so much as suspicious of my true nature.”

 

_ Jesse, I wish I could apologize to you. _

 

“I was to meet with him tonight one last time, to perhaps establish a contact and continue receiving information about Blackwatch operations. I believe it may be too late for that now.” 

 

_ Do you know that I love you? That every time you smiled, I wanted to give you my heart again and again? _

 

“It is no matter. The fact that Blackwatch has been dissuaded is more than enough.” His father said, allowing a small, half smile to grace his face. Hanzo might have been proud of that smile any other day.

 

_ I met you on Tanabata, Jesse. The day of the fated lovers. The weaver and the farm boy. _

 

“I will see to it that I do not commit to such undertakings without your prior consent, Father.”

 

_ Every year, if the girl has finished her weaving, she may meet her lover on a bridge of magpies. _

 

“Again, I am proud of you. Do not apologize, but do understand that you must be wary.”

 

_ If it rains on Tanabata, the magpies cannot fly. The lovers must wait another year to meet. _

 

Hanzo nodded, still focusing his eyes. With a sigh, his father stood. “That being said, it is late. My associates and I will see to it that Blackwatch is… politely asked to leave. You may go.”    
  
Hanzo stood numbly and bowed, walking stiffly from the room. His whole body felt as though it were in a dream. Perhaps he’d wake up, and Jesse would be there beside him, neck blotchy with memories of a passionate night, sunlight filtering through his thin facial hair, smelling faintly of whiskey.    
  
_ I hope it does not rain next year, Jesse. I hope that, like them, we are destined to meet again. _

 

Perhaps that dream would be the last he saw of Jesse Mccree.

 

~

 

“That’s a flush- sorry, Lena, but two pair just don’t hold up.”

.Lena groaned, pushing her hair out of her face. “I just don’t get how you do it! I don’t consider myself a gambler, but I’m no slouch at it either! Honestly, Mccree- is there any fair game with you?”

 

“Aw, sugar, don’t be sore. Just because I’ve got half of yer snack money for the next week don’t mean I’m playin’ dirty.” Despite his words, Jesse beamed as he pulled his winnings in. “Anyone up for a game of blackjack?”

 

“I’d be in, but I believe we have visitors.” Mei pointed out, gesturing to the bay window at the front of the room. The large outdoor elevator had been opened, and sure enough, Genji emerged, an omnic in tow. They seemed to be conversing amicably, and Jesse had to admit- it was strange seeing Genji so enthusiastic. In his heyday, the man had been a bit more brooding.

 

“I hear Genji brought a few guests, but I had no idea he’d have a member of the Shambali!” Lena exclaimed, jumping up to press her face to the glass of the window. “Zenyatta Tekhartha, no less!”

 

“Bless you.” Mccree joked, standing. “I oughta go say hello, help ‘em get settled. Genji was a good friend, I figure-”

 

“You figure?” Mei asked, packing up the cards and glancing up at Mccree. He’d stopped in the middle of his sentence, mouth slightly ajar, cigar one lip twitch away from falling.

 

“You alright, Jesse?” Lena asked, following his line of sight. “Oh, he brought his brother, that’s right. Messy history with those two, I’ve heard.”

 

“Pardon-” Jesse snapped out of his trance, staring at Lena. “His  _ brother? _ Hanzo Shimada is Genji’s brother?”   
  
“The very same.” Mei remarked. “He’s quite talented, I was reading up on his case files with Winston yesterday.”

 

“As in the brother who straight-up tried to  _ murder  _ him?”

 

“Mmhm.” Lena nodded. “You alright, luv?”

 

Jesse adjusted his hat, pulling his cigar from his mouth and gritting his teeth. “I think I got some unfinished business. If you’ll excuse me, ma’ams.”   
  
~   
  


Hanzo had tried not to hope. He’d told himself it was irrational for so many reasons- god, the number of things that would need to align was almost unbelievable. It seemed foolish to even have considered it in the first place.

 

That was why when he saw the familiar gait charging towards him, he could do little but stop and stare.

 

“Jesse, it is an honor to see you again.” Genji chimed, Zenyatta offering up a gentle wave. Jesse nodded, but did not stop. Genji and Zenyatta watched him pass- even though they couldn’t emote, it was clear that they did not know what Jesse was attempting to do.

 

Hanzo didn’t either, until it hit him square in the jaw. He stumbled backwards from the impact, landing on his ass in a way that was in no way graceful.

 

“You LYIN’, DIRTY, NO GOOD, SON OF A-”

 

Was his nose broken? No, no, his piercing had just been ripped a little. God, that hurt. Was his lip bleeding?

 

“I oughta shoot you right here. What in the hell do you think you’re doin’ here?”

 

“Jesse!” Hanzo heard Genji cry. “I have forgiven him, do not-”

 

“Sorry Genji, but this ain’t about you.” He spat. “Hanzo. No, sorry,  _ Shimada.  _ So this is how a Shimada dresses then, huh? Like a goddamn wolf in sheep’s clothin’.”

 

“It is good to see you again, Jesse.” Hanzo replied weakly. He cradled his jaw- glancing at Jesse, he was thankful that he’d chosen his organic arm to wreak havoc on Hanzo’s face. The metal one would have likely done much more damage.

 

Jesse didn’t reply, just stood, fuming, staring down at Hanzo with a look of hurt. 

 

_ The year after you left, it rained on Tanabata. _

 

“I assume you probably do not wish to talk to me.”

 

_ I sat in my room and thought of you. You left a shirt with me, plaid and red and riddled with stains. _

 

“Yer  _ damn  _ right.”

 

_ I wondered if this was all that was left of you. That you’d be buried without it- you seemed too reckless not to die young. _

 

“Then I suppose you could not be bothered to listen.”

 

_ I hoped for a long time that I’d see you again- smoking on a street corner. You’d be there in my dreams. _

 

Jesse was silent for a moment, but Hanzo could feel the hesitance.

 

_ I stopped hoping long ago, but you never did fade from my memory.  _

 

“If you can say somethin’ to change my mind, I ain’t gonna complain. But you’ve got a hell of a lot to explain.”

 

_ Every day I regretted it- I’d have sooner lived with the shame than made you hate me. _

 

“I understand.” Hanzo said, rubbing his jaw. “And I do not expect forgiveness.”

 

A moment passed. More silence, more painful gazes from Jesse. Hanzo felt as though the world were collapsing in on him.

 

“Just- git up, I guess.” 

 

Jesse extended a hand, and Hanzo took it, feeling something like a rush spreading through his bones. There he was- Jesse Mccree, in the flesh. Alive. Well. Smoking some expensive looking cigar, backlit by the midafternoon sun of Watchpoint Gibraltar.

 

He couldn’t help it- burying himself in Jesse’s arms like a distraught lost child. The scent was familiar- alcohol and cheap detergent, bringing back a feeling lost to the years. He was sure that the action had selfish motivations- there was no reason in the world for Jesse to love him, not anymore. For every lazy sunlit morning, Hanzo had fostered an equally devious betrayal. For every breathy call of his name, Hanzo had birthed equally passionate struggle. Here he was, begging Jesse Mccree with his body to forgive. Begging for every transgression to be erased on the grounds that love was everlasting.

 

It felt like years before Jesse seemed to reciprocate, hesitantly, his arms tucking Hanzo just a tad closer, head falling onto Hanzo’s. Jesse had grown over the years- he’d gained a few inches on Hanzo.

 

“This ain’t an apology, mind you.” Jesse replied gruffly. “Just a… truce.”

 

“It is good to see you again, Jesse Mccree.”

 

The two stood like that for a while, both silently ruminating on the possibilities for the future. It was only when Jesse spoke that the silence was broken again.

 

“Hey, Hanzo?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Yer gettin’ blood on my shirt.”

 

“Always the charmer.”

 

“That’s why ya love me.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This started as a ficlet and got out of hand. Consider leaving some feedback, it's always appreciated!
> 
> sburban-mom.tumblr.com
> 
> @runningbox11 on twitter!


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